Somewhere Else
by ncfan
Summary: She dreamt of a person she had never met. (Or: That one where Celebrían gets a crush on a historical figure who also happens to be her distant cousin.)


I own nothing.

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She dreamt of a person she had never met.

Where other children in the Nenuial settlement were sustained on bread and fruit and meats, Celebrían felt at times as though she was sustained by stories alone. She had the whispers of the past flowing through her veins instead of blood, and why wouldn't she? Her family was a storied one, on both sides, and they had a rich mine of stories on which to draw. Never mind that her mother was the only one who ever told her stories of their family. Those stories were the only way she would know most of her family, and sometimes, she did daydream.

Of course, Celebrían had little time for daydreams, especially as she grew into adolescence. She had her lessons, and her responsibilities, even if she was young and her parents did not yet expect much of her. But there were days when she could catch her breath, sit against a tree in the hills and dream. On those days, she often found herself dreaming of Lúthien.

It wasn't like the games she and her friends had played as children. They rarely grew tired of re-enacting the Lay of Leithian, though they did at times grow weary of the roles assigned to them. Since there were few girls in the Nenuial settlement, and Celebrían was Lúthien's own (albeit distant) kinswoman, she was often pressed into performing the role of Lúthien during these games. One day, however, she had declared that she wished to be Beren instead.

Celebrían had expected teasing, but was thrilled when Tatharon had unwound his long black hair from its braid, grinned hugely and said that _he _would be Lúthien, then. Berthril held up her long blue shawl like wings and cried that she would be Thuringwethil. Gelorn scowled (he was usually Thuringwethil) and said that he would be Sauron. They had all burst out laughing when Tatharon tried to weave "a song of power" to overthrow Tol-in-Gaurhoth that failed when his voice cracked at a high note, and descended into helpless giggles when Berthril switched roles to Carcharoth and mimed biting Celebrían's hand off. Unfortunately, at about that moment, Celeborn happened to come across them, and when he realized what they were re-enacting, his face went just a touch green. Remembering that Celeborn had been present for the Hunting of the Wolf and its aftermath rather took the fun out of it for the four of them.

Celebrían doubted that she was the only Edhel ever to daydream about Lúthien. The daughter of Melian and Elu Thingol, the heroine of the Lay of Leithian, she was long gone, but well-remembered by the Edhil. Celebrían had heard more than one song and ballad dedicated to the deeds of Lúthien, lamenting her fate. She had snorted over more than one piece of bad, amateurish love poetry comparing a maiden's beauty to that of Tinúviel.

'Lúthien' was a name that everyone knew; she was a nís whom everyone had thought about, everyone had wondered about. But the flavor of Celebrían's daydreams felt different from that. They were informed by all of Galadriel's stories of Lúthien, and felt much more real, more vivid, than the songs of Lúthien that surrounded her.

She imagined walking beneath the trees of Region and Neldoreth at Lúthien's side, as sunlight found its way through the hollies and the beeches in shafts. Celebrían would walk in silence, content to let Lúthien's soft, warm voice fill her ears. What was she talking about? Nothing in particular. It didn't matter what she was talking about; it was enough just to be at her side.

Or they could have left Doriath, as Lúthien had often confided in Galadriel that she wished to. They would steal away from Menegroth in the dead of night, and strike out to see the wider world. South, Lúthien and Celebrían would travel, away from Beleriand to hot, bright lands where Anor's light was stronger than it was in the north. Just as Lúthien had longed to be a part of the wider world, so did Celebrían. In new lands that none of the Edhil had ever seen, they would laugh breathlessly, flushed and happy, reveling in their shared freedom.

Or it could be that Lúthien would teach Celebrían to dance, as she had taught so many others.

They would whirl round and round upon a floor of leaves and flowers, black hair and silver tangling together until neither could say where Lúthien's hair ended and Celebrían's began. Lúthien's hands would be gentle, balanced on her shoulders, then her hips, as she talked her through moves and postures. They would turn back towards one another after a long dance, and find the other so close that their noses were nearly touching. Lúthien would smile brightly, Celebrían would reach up to touch her face, feel her smooth, silken skin, and…

Celebrían's eyes fluttered open. The spring sunlight was warm on her skin; the green smell of new grass and blooming flowers filled her nostrils. She held in her mind's eye a lithe figure in blue walking through the trees towards her, and smiled.

(And throughout all of this, she never imagined spying Lúthien from afar and breathing '_Tinúviel.'_)

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Edhel—Elf (plural: Edhil) (Sindarin)  
Nís—woman (plural: nissi)  
Anor—the Sindarin name for the Sun (Sindarin)


End file.
